Laurus

by Eugene Vodolazkin

The settlement greeted them with the howling of dogs and the lowing of cows. Christofer knew those sounds well, they could not be confused with anything. This was the music of the plague.

Each of us repeats Adam’s journey and acknowledges, with the loss of innocence, that he is mortal. Weep and pray, O Arseny. And do not fear death, for death is not just the bitterness of parting. It is also the joy of liberation.

The potter’s field was located on a hill two versts from Christofer’s house. There lay the plague dead, pilgrims, the strangled, unchristened babies, and suicides. Those drowned by waters, and taken by battle, and kylled by kyllers, and stricken by fyre. Suddenly surprised, those who had fallen from lightning, were deade from frost and every sort of wounde. The lives of these unfortunates were varied and it was not life that united them: their resemblance to one another consisted of death.

He walked along the wall of Pskov’s kremlin (krom) and was surprised at the might of the wall. Behind a wall like that, Arseny thought, life would go on, by all appearances, calmly and placidly. It was difficult to anticipate that an external enemy could get over its walls. I cannot picture ladders of dimensions large enough for these walls. Or, let us imagine, weapons capable of breaking through that thickness. But (Arseny threw back his head and it felt as if the wall had slowly begun bending toward him) even a wall like that did not preclude the danger of an internal enemy if he were to appear behind that wall. You might say that would be the worst possible thing: now that would truly be a critical situation.

It’s just that the level of what was expected from me exceeded the level of my kindness—and

O friend, I do not question the necessity of time. We simply need to remember that only the material world needs time.

Have a look, my love, Arseny told Ustina, I managed to forestall time just now, and that shows that time is not all-powerful. I forestalled time by only an instant, but that instant was worth an entire human life.

So you say faith is not enough for you and you want knowledge, too. But knowledge does not involve spiritual effort; knowledge is obvious. Faith assumes effort. Knowledge is repose and faith is motion.

Do not become like your beloved Alexander who had a journey but had no goal. And do not be enamored of excessive horizontal motion. Then what should I be enamored of? asked Arseny. Vertical motion, answered the elder, pointing above. In the center of the church’s cupola there gaped a round, black opening reserved for the sky and stars. Stars were visible but they were fading from sight. Arseny understood day was breaking.

He had long suspected that time was discontinuous and its individual parts were not connected to one another, much as there was no connection—other than, perhaps, a name—between the blond little boy from Rukina Quarter and the gray-haired wayfarer, almost an old man. Strictly speaking, his name changed, too, over the course of his life.

Time no longer moves forward but goes around in circles because it teems with events that go around in circles. And events here, my love, are tied primarily to worship. In the first and third hours of each day we remember Pilate’s trial of Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the sixth hour it is the Way of the Cross, and in the ninth hour, the suffering on the cross. And that composes the worship cycle for the day.

There are events that resemble one another, continued the elder, but opposites are born from that similarity. The Old Testament opens with Adam but the New Testament opens with Christ. The sweetness of the apple that Adam eats turns into the bitterness of the vinegar that Christ drinks. The tree of knowledge leads humanity to death but a cross of wood grants immortality to humanity. Remember, O Amvrosy, that repetitions are granted for our salvation and in order to surmount time.

Why give birth for death? boyar Frol said to the servants of his house. But everyone is born for death, the servants objected. We have yet to see other types. I can inform you that Enoch and Elijah were taken to the heavens alive, answered the boyar, but you truly have not seen them. You know, life should not be stopped until it is stopped by the Almighty, advised the servants of his house. Boyar Frol thought a bit and agreed.

Life resembles a mosaic that scatters into pieces.

But in the mosaic of your life there is also something that joins all those separate parts: it is an aspiration for Him. They will gather together again in Him.

What kind of people are you? says the merchant Zygfryd. A person heals you, dedicates his whole life to you, and you torture him his whole life. And when he dies, you tie a rope to his feet, drag him, and tears stream down your faces. You have already been in our land for a year and eight months, answers blacksmith Averky, but have not understood a thing about it. And do you yourselves understand it? asks Zygfryd. Do we? The blacksmith mulls that over and looks at Zygfryd. Of course we, too, do not understand.